


Silk Scarves and Sticky Fingers

by celestialskiff



Series: The Leverage Age Play AU No One Asked For [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Diapers, Don't Like Don't Read, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Little Parker, No Romance, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Omorashi, Pacifiers, Sophie POV, Team as Family, Wetting, alternate universe - littles are known, brief Sophie/OMC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/pseuds/celestialskiff
Summary: In a world where littles are accepted by society, many people decide to be caregivers. But Sophie never thought she’d be one of those people. Until she met Parker.Dedicated to everyone who obsessively checks the Non-Sexual Age Play tag in the hope they’ll find a new fic which will briefly fill the aching void inside them. You are not alone.





	Silk Scarves and Sticky Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to capeofstorm who so kindly beta'd this for me. Remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Please read the tags. This may not be for you.

1.

There were detention centres for littles. Sophie had read about them in an opinion piece when she was on a plane. She did a lot of her reading while on planes. 

She'd read how mainstream prisons were considered unsuitable for littles, and a system of detention centres had begun instead. The detention centres weren’t much better than prison, though, and the littles were often mistreated, emerging traumatised and vulnerable to further manipulation and abuse. Sophie had read the article and been shocked, but because it was very far removed from her own life she hadn’t thought about it much beyond that. 

Now she'd met Parker she kept remembering phrases from the article. They blazed into her mind when Parker grinned at her, dressed in her climbing rig, or when Parker sat on the table, carefully explaining how she would crack a safe or sneak into a vault. She'd imagine Parker stuck in a centre somewhere, all her vitality sucked into a sterile room. It made her uncomfortable, even though she knew Parker had chosen to become part of their crew. 

And Parker was a lot to take. She rarely showed vulnerability, but she was definitely a brat, like other littles that had annoyed Sophie in the past. She always wanted to get her own way, and she laughed too loudly and ate too much candy and had far too much energy. 

She made Sophie feel inadequate. Hardison and Eliot both seemed to get a kick out of her. She'd seen Eliot mock-wrestling with her, and Hardison teaching her to play video-games, but Sophie never knew how to react. 

A part of Sophie had always wanted to nurture a little, but it was a part that she kept at a safe distance. She'd decided long ago that it wasn't ethical to mix up littles and crime. Besides, she couldn't commit to someone else, not with her lifestyle. 

She wasn't particularly good with littles. Yes, she'd met one at a park and they'd played, and once she'd run into one at a gallery, and they'd talked about art, and she'd thought he was cute, but if a little was obviously distressed, she was more than happy to let someone else step in. She would absolutely vote to give littles more autonomy, but she'd rather not get snot all over her blouse. 

Sophie felt bad for thinking it, but she wasn't crazy about having Parker on the team. Littles were impulsive, and they had a lot of needs. Parker hadn't done anything to jeopardise the team yet, but littles were a liability. Everyone knew that. 

2.

Nate was driving just under the speed limit so they wouldn't attract attention. But they were definitely running. Their cover was blown, they'd come out of the bank hot, and Hardison had sprained his shoulder. He was sitting in the front, next to Nate, groaning. 

Eliot, in the back, sitting between Sophie and Parker, was teasing him. It was gentle needling, Sophie realised, more designed to distract than mock. 

Parker looked out of the window, biting her lip. Her cheeks were flushed. They'd been running, and because of the running and the adrenaline, she looked like her usual self, messy and energetic, even though she was wearing a tight cocktail dress. The expensive perfume she'd used to cover the faint scent of pheromones that would mark her as a little had faded. Her hair had come out of the up-do Sophie had put in for her, and her bangs fell into her face. 

Eliot nudged her suddenly. “You're quiet. Tell Hardison he's being a baby.” 

Parker blinked, and her cheeks reddened further. She looked embarrassed, and that surprised Sophie, because Sophie had never seen her look embarrassed before. 

Parker made a little sound, somewhere between an exhale and gasp, and stared down at her lap, her hair covering eyes. Sophie didn't realise what was wrong until Eliot snapped, “Couldn't you hold it?” 

The little was wetting herself, Sophie realised, a dark stain spreading underneath her and onto the seat.

“It just happens.” Parker's voice was strangled, but she didn't apologise. 

Eliot shifted in his seat. He was getting wet too. “Aren't you supposed to wear protection?” 

“You try getting a diaper under a cocktail dress,” Parker muttered. She wrapped her arms around her chest, and rocked herself, her lips pressed tightly together. 

They were all silent: Nate staring at the road, Hardison looking back nervously at Parker and then away, Eliot glowering. Sophie wanted to say something, but she didn't know what. It wasn't Parker's fault. She knew that. Maybe they'd pushed her too far. But the car was going to smell and they had to keep driving, and Sophie didn't know how to solve the problem. 

Eliot coughed, and then stretched behind them to grab his jacket from the back ledge. He dug around in a pocket, and then produced a pacifier, a green one. “Hey,” he said. “You left this at the hotel.” 

Parker stared at it for a moment, as thought it was a trick, and then she snatched the pacifier from him, and began to suck. As she sucked, she hunched in on herself, wrapping her arms more tightly around her torso, ducking her head. It was the first time Sophie had seen her really look little. Yes, she'd been noisy and bratty before, but not vulnerable. Sophie realised that was unusual, because littles were supposed to be vulnerable like this, at least some of the time, and Parker must be working hard to hide that side of herself. 

“Don't worry about it,” Eliot said, voice still rough. Hardison echoed him, “Yeah, it's OK.” 

Then Nate added, “We'll stop as soon as it's safe. Hang in there.” 

Only Sophie didn't offer any reassurance. She wanted to gather Parker into her arms, and at the same time push her away, never see her again. She stared mutely at her hands.

3.

“I'm out,” Eliot said. He had a smear of chocolate on his shirt from where Parker had tried to wrestle with him. He shoved his coat on over it, and banged the door shut behind him. That just left Sophie and Nate in the hotel room with the wired little. 

Parker climbed onto the table, and from there to the top of the closet. She wedged herself into the space, deft and agile. “I'm a cat,” she said, grinning, showing all her teeth. 

“This is Hardison's fault,” Nate said. “He took her to that candy store.” 

Sophie nodded. “Where is he anyway? He should know a little just can't handle that much sugar.” 

“I think she's calming down,” Nate said. Parker was trying to hang by her knees from the closet. It didn't look to Sophie like she was calming down at all. “You can take it from here, right?” 

“No.” Sophie snorted. “You think because I'm a woman I'm a more natural caregiver?” 

Parker drummed her fists against the wardrobe. “You don't have to take care of me.” 

Sophie and Nate looked at her. 

“What? I'm little, I'm not dumb. I know I'm a pain in the ass.” She stretched, slid off the closet into a handstand and cartwheeled neatly upright. 

“No one thinks you're dumb, sweetheart,” Sophie said. 

“But you do think I'm a pain in the ass?” Parker laughed and snorted at the same time. “It's OK. I can take care of myself.” 

Nate sighed. “It would be irresponsible to leave you on your own. You could behave in the bar though, right?” He nodded at Sophie. “We could use a drink.” 

“Let's go to the pool.” Parker opened the closet, pawing through the clothes. “You can drink at the pool, and I can swim.” 

“Oh god, that's my silk blouse.” Sophie caught Parker's hands. “Are you still sticky? How are you so sticky?” 

Parker shrugged. “Why aren't you sticky? It's hard not to be sticky. Can we go to the pool?” 

Sophie sighed, tugging Parker towards the bathroom. She didn't resist. 

“I don't think the pool is open.” Sophie filled the sink with warm water. When was Parker going to crash? She had not signed up for this. 

She scrubbed the little's hands carefully with soap, and wet a wash-cloth so she could get the residue of chocolate off Parker's cheeks. Parker closed her eyes. She seemed to relax a little at Sophie's touch. “You're good at this,” she said, as Sophie towelled her off. “But you don't have to, you know. I won't do anything bad.” 

“I know,” Sophie said. She smoothed Parker's bangs back from her face. Parker needed to wash her hair, too, but Sophie wasn't going to embark on that right now. “I know you're an independent girl and you can handle yourself. But I don't want to leave you alone.” 

She found that was true: it wasn't just a sense of duty. She wanted to the little to know she, Sophie, was here, that she had a safety net. 

Parker blinked. “Can we watch TV?” she said after a moment. 

TV was a more reasonable request than the pool. Sophie turned it on, and then gulped and switched it off again when she realised it was tuned to porn. 

“I know what sex is,” Parker said, a note of complaint in her voice, but when Sophie had recovered and switched the TV back on, Parker selected a TV show that seemed to be aimed towards very little kids. The music played soft and tinkling. Parker leant her chin in her hand. 

“OK, I'm getting a real drink,” Nate said, clinking down the tiny bottle of whiskey he'd already taken from the mini-bar. Sophie glanced over at him. His face was clouded now, tense. 

She let him go. It wasn't like he was helping anyway. 

She put her arm around Parker, and was pleased when the little slumped bonelessly against her side. She kissed the top of Parker's head, and Parker sighed, nuzzling into Sophie. She smelt of chocolate and that ineffable little scent that made even the sternest caregiver's heart melt. 

“Wanna paci,” Parker murmured after a moment. It took Sophie a moment to translate the garbled syllables. She grabbed one for her from the night stand, where Parker had left it that morning. Instead of taking it from Sophie's hand, Parker opened her mouth wordlessly asking Sophie to pop it in. 

She heard the soft sound as Parker began to suckle it, and Parker leant even more heavily against her. Sophie began to relax too. 

4.

“I bet you couldn't carry me up the stairs,” Parker said. 

“I ain't giving you a piggy-back ride.” 

“I got heavier; I've been building muscle. You'd fall over if you picked me up.” 

Eliot folded his arms over his chest. “You're transparent.” 

Parker shrugged. “We could race Hardison. I bet you could get to the top before him, even carrying me.” 

“How about you ask nicely?” 

Sophie smiled to herself. Eliot relented every time. 

Parker, though, hated to say please. “I promise I won't pull your hair this time.” 

Eliot glared at her. “Good enough,” he said after a long moment, and Parker squeaked in pleasure. She launched herself at Eliot's back, and he caught her easily. 

“We can beat Hardison, right?” Parker asked. 

Sophie watched him bound up the stairs, calling taunts at Hardison, who was already a floor above them. She smiled. Eliot liked to please people, but he hated that about himself. He was generous in quiet ways: with cooking, by noticing what people needed. When Sophie thanked him, his eyes lit up for a moment, and then he remember to glower. Hardison didn't want to please people, he wanted to impress them. He didn't like to show weakness: didn't complain when he was tired, or his head hurt from staring at a screen. 

Though her life revolved around her skills with people, Sophie didn't have many friends. It was strange to her to share a space with people, day after day, and begin to notice things about them. Nate was the only one she thought she fully understood, but it was hurt to watch his alcoholism, his misery. 

In the apartment, Hardison was panting, and Parker had clambered onto the table. “We could go again. Can we, Eliot?” 

Eliot's half-smile flickered when she looked at him. Sophie could see he liked her enthusiasm, but he shook his head. “Don't need to. I'll always win.” 

“I helped,” Parker said. 

“How?” 

“I kicked you. Made you go faster.” 

Hardison snorted with laughter. “Yeah, let's go again.” 

“Stop climbing on the furniture,” Eliot said, which was completely pointless, because Parker never listened to instructions. 

“Can we go over the intel?” Nate said. “Did you get the surveillance tapes?” 

He looked exhausted, papers spread out in front of him, a coffee mug half-full of whiskey. The laughter died away at his voice, and Sophie wondered if he hated the fun, and wanted to squash it, or if knowing he dispelled the light mood saddened him. 

Parker leapt onto the couch, unceremoniously leaning against Hardison. “Security's a joke,” she said cheerfully. “Eliot will need to take out one guard. They have lasers set up, but they never turn them on.” She yawned. 

“What, is this job boring you?” Nate said. 

Parker shrugged, then nodded. “You can wake me up when you need me,” she said, curling into a ball. 

Sophie sat down next to her, feeling her warmth. Hardison absent-mindedly stroked her back as he brought the data up on screen. At first, Sophie had thought Parker was totally unpredictable. But now she could see that the little's energy crashes fell into a predictable pattern. 

5.

“’Give Her Some Air?’” Sophie suggested. 

“Don't know if I can carry you,” Hardison replied. They were in the elevator, brainstorming, as they hadn't anticipated having to get past the security guards downstairs. “What about 'I Saw a Dude With a Weird Box Upstairs, Maybe It's a Bomb'?” 

“I don’t know if we can pull that off,” Sophie said. 

Parker, staring at the door, broke in, “I gotta go.” 

“Yeah, we're trying to get out of here,” Hardison said. 

Parker shook her head. “No, I gotta go to the bathroom. Now.” She was tense, hands balled into fists, legs pressed together. 

Hardison sighed. “Don't know how to help you with that.” 

Parker made a noise – a groan and a sigh of exasperation rolled into one. “It's a _plan_. You know what people don't want to look at? A crying little with wet pants. Trust me.” 

“Are you sure? You're gonna make a mess,” Hardison said. 

“I'm gonna make a mess whatever happens.” The tension in her body wasn't fake. Parker wasn't good at faking something like that. 

The doors dinged open. Parker took a step forward, drew in a shaky breath. “But I gotta!” she said loudly. The security guards looked up at the sound of her voice. 

She rushed towards them. “Where's the -” 

Sophie felt a rush of sympathy when she heard Parker sniffle. It was quiet in the lobby, but not quiet enough to hear the hiss of urine. Still, despite Parker's dark clothes, she could see the spreading stain, and hear Parker's whimper. A puddle formed under one foot as the liquid trickled out of the bottom of her pants. 

The security guards, two of them, had stepped forward when the elevator opened, but now they were both backing away from Parker, glancing awkwardly at each other. Sophie remembered seeing a little having an accident in line at the airport once, and realised she'd reacted exactly the same way. Tried as hard as she could not to look. Because it was horrible, that vulnerability: she had been glad it was nothing to do with her. 

Gathering herself together, Sophie forced a harsh expression, and said, “Again? For god's sake, can't you hold it for one minute? You've ruined your clothes. Young lady, I'm not happy.” 

Hardison put his arm around Parker's shoulders, which was brave of him, since she was pretty soggy. “Come on, kid, let's get you something to wear.” To the security guards, he added, “You gonna let me help her clean up, or you just gonna stand there?” 

Sophie swept up to the door, chiding Parker and the guards as she went. “Honestly, I can't bring her anywhere. Going to have to go to the dry-cleaners again. Do you know where I can find diapers at this time of night?” 

They were out of the door in seconds. 

Parker grinned at them, brushing the tears off her face. “See? Littles are good for something,” she said. 

Hardison gave her another sideways hug. “Woman, we would be lost without you.” 

Sophie shepherded them towards the van. “You were fantastic, Parker. You're a wonderful little.” 

Parker shook her head. “It's mostly a pain in the ass, being little. I think I left dry sweats in the back of the van, though.”

6.

She helped Parker dry off that time, and it was the first time Sophie had ever helped a little with something so intimate. Most people with any caregiver instinct at all had done this lots of times, in various different kinds of relationships, but Sophie had always avoided it. Diapers were unpleasant, the idea of helping a little clean up made Sophie's nose wrinkle. 

But as Parker struggled to get her pants down in the moving vehicle, Sophie found a desire to help she'd never knew existed. She couldn't leave Parker wet and miserable for one more second. So she steadied Parker, and handed her a fresh diaper. 

Despite not having a lot of experience in this area, she knew the chapped red skin on Parker's bottom and vulva wasn't normal. 

“That looks painful,” she said carefully. 

Parker shrugged. “Oh, I'm always rashy.” 

“Do you have cream?” 

“You get used to it,” Parker said, grabbing the clean pull-up from under the fold of her sweat-pants. “I don't always get a chance to change often enough.”

She sat down with barely a wince, but Sophie couldn't stop thinking about it. Parker's sore skin. Most littes had problems with continence, and Parker wore diapers or pull-ups most of the time. She said they restricted her movement too much when she was on a job, and they didn't fit if she wore a tight dress. She was able to take care of herself, even unprotected: she'd only had two accidents that Sophie knew about. 

But didn't littles usually have caregivers to help them change? Or at least remind them of their needs? Suddenly Sophie relaised how hard it must be for Parker to have no one to help her with the most basic things. 

The evening, Sophie went to the littles' section in her favourite department store. She'd never been there before. The older woman at the counter was clearly a little, eyes crinkling around a smile as she showed Sophie a selection of mechanical toys and puzzles. 

“They're very complex: they can stump the smartest little. What animal does yours like best? We have all kinds.” 

The question made Sophie stutter. She never thought of Parker as 'hers'. And she had no idea if Parker had a favourite animal. 

“I'm actually looking for a cream for diaper rash,” Sophie said. “The best you have.” 

“Well, we have a lovely Yves Saint Laurent cream, very soothing, and a beautiful scent. You can try it on your hands if you like.” The assistant paused, and looked thoughtfully at Sophie. “But if it's a bad case, I recommend a very simple diaper cream from a drug store. No scents or extras, just something very plain. And make sure you little uses lots of it, and gives their skin plenty of air.” 

Sophie thanked her, and as an afterthought, bought one of the mechanical toys. She couldn't tell if Parker would like it, but a bribe couldn't hurt. 

She left the rash cream and the toy in a bag by her apartment door, but when she left to meet the others the next morning, she didn't pick it up. It stayed by the door for several days, as she tried not to see Parker's slight wince when she sat down. 

Sophie decided it wasn't her business. She'd always chosen not to be a caregiver. 

She went shopping again, and bought shoes, and told herself that she could like Parker as a friend and colleague, but nothing more. She didn’t want to get entangled. And Parker smiled brightly, poked Eliot in the ribs, swung from beams, and seemed, in every visible way, to thrive. 

_We don't need each other,_ Sophie told herself. _Don't do this._

7.

Sophie was sleeping badly, waking with an ache in her jaw and pain in her hands. She'd been dreaming of being locked up: a grey prison uniform, doors that never opened. Hands at her throat. 

She had headaches during the day, and drank a lot of coffee. They'd spent a week gathering information for the next job, when suddenly everything took off at once: Sophie was playing three different people. In those moments, she was in love with the whole crew – their daring, their brilliance, their drive. They were invulnerable. 

The adrenaline coursed through. She forgot everything but the job. 

Then it was over, they won, and the joy only lasted until she got home. The emptiness of her apartment, which she had not entered for three days, was a physical shock. Plums were rotting in her fruit bowl, dead flies lay on the windowsill. She poured wine, sat on the couch, and stood up again. She couldn't get comfortable here. She'd go to a bar. She'd flirt. She'd remember she was beautiful and clever all by herself. 

She managed not to scream when Parker appeared through her vent, but it was close. 

“Can anyone break in here, or just you?” Sophie asked. 

Parker thought about it. “Not just me. Need to be someone small though, to get through this way. Do you have a good safe?” 

“I don't keep anything valuable here. Just a few personal things.” 

“That's OK then.” Parker worried a strand of hair between finger and thumb. 

Sophie sat down again. She couldn't bring Parker to a bar; Parker would hate it. And suddenly Sophie was tired, like the adrenaline had drained from her all at once. She felt a headache beginning at her temple. 

“Are you hungry?” Sophie asked. 

Parker shook her head. She came and sat on the floor by Sophie's feet, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her hair, which needed to be trimmed, fell around her face. Sophie looked at her: a part of her said she should send Parker away. She needed to maintain boundaries, or she would develop an attachment she didn't want. 

Instead, she put her hand on the back of Parker's head, and stroked her silky hair. “What's wrong?” 

Parker shrugged. Very softly, she said, “I just miss you.” 

“You've seen me all week,” Sophie protested. 

“I know. But then I got home and I was...” Parker swallowed. She rocked herself, small and miserable. Littles were supposed to cry when they were unhappy, and seek affection. Parker, trying desperately to self-soothe, had never learnt to let herself cry. She had never found anywhere safe enough for her to seek comfort. 

Sophie pictured her, for years, rocking herself, in foster homes, on the streets, in juvenile detention. Always alone. 

It made a heat come to Sophie's throat – an ache that was worse than tears. She touched Parker's shoulder, her arm, and then she slid onto the floor next to Parker so she could gather the little into her arms. Parker was too tall to fit on her lap, but she draped Parker's long legs over her knee, and tugged Parker's head down onto her breast, and rocked her. 

She had always thought she would not know how to soothe a little. That she would not know how to hold anyone at all. But Parker fit naturally in her arms. Gentle words came to Sophie's lips, and she whispered them, tangling her fingers in Parker's hair. 

Sophie held her until she lost track of time. The room was silent, the fridge humming distantly. Parker seemed content to settle like that all night; she showed no sign of letting go. 

At last, Sophie whispered, “My bum is falling asleep,” and Parker laughed a tiny bit, and let Sophie guide her upright. 

Standing, Sophie brushed Parker's hair away from her face, and looked at the little's pinched features, her paleness. “Do you want to spend the night?” Sophie asked. 

Parker nodded, and Sophie took her hand, thinking she would give Parker a hot drink. That she would hold her and sing to her, if she needed it. That she would find her soft pyjamas, and she would get out that rash cream she had bought weeks ago. 

And she felt strangely giddy, like the moment on a con when she knew that mark was hooked and there was no way to turn back. But Parker had hooked _her_ , and Sophie knew now that she didn't want to wriggle free, afraid as she was of the silken line. 

8.

Sophie wasn't sure where Parker spent her nights. Perhaps in her own home, still mysterious to Sophie, or wandering through vents, casing security systems. Sometimes, it was true, she slept in the room Sophie had originally thought of as the guest-room, and had begun to think of as Parker's room. 

But most mornings, at around six, Parker would climb into Sophie’s bed. At first it had disturbed Sophie so much she couldn't get back to sleep, but quickly her body adjusted. She'd simply lift an arm, and feel the warm body slot against her own, Parker's nose pressing into her neck. She'd hear Parker's breaths slowing down, and hear the soft liquid sounds of Parker's pacifier moving in her mouth. The sun would not yet be up, and Sophie would drift into a deeper sleep, dreams full of bird song and wind in trees. 

That morning, her alarm went off at eight. Parker made a soft, huffing sound, snuggling closer to Sophie. Sophie's eyes blinked open as she assessed a situation she had never expected to experience. The protectiveness that surged through her as she held the sleepy woman, and the rush of affection. She also examined the drool Parker had left on her lace pyjama top, and checked that Parker's diaper hadn't leaked. It never had so far, but as Sophie checked, she could tell it had been used, heavy and warm, and rather than making her feel disgusted, that added to the feeling of protectiveness. 

Part of it was hormones, Sophie knew. They were affecting each other, their bodies recognising that they were safe together. And part of it was simply loneliness finally assuaged. 

But there was something else, too. A feeling of belonging that Sophie didn't know how to describe. That here, hugging Parker in her sunlit bed, was the home she'd always been looking for. 

“Come on,” she said now. “I've got a client to meet. Do you want breakfast?” 

Parker yawned, snuggling closer to Sophie. “'M wet,” she murmured. 

“I know, kitten. Why don't you get clean?” 

Parker made a faint sound in her throat, and, eyes still half-closed, searched vaguely around for the pacifier she'd dropped in her sleep. 

Sophie thwarted her search. “You can have it once you're up. You need to get changed, your rash isn't healed completely.” That was another concern Sophie had never thought she'd have. 

As usual, Parker seemed to jump from completely asleep to awake. She sat up, stretching her arms back impossibly far. “Did you get more Fruit Loops?” 

But the next morning, Sophie woke up long before her alarm, alone, feeling bereft. The routine was important to her, too. 

She found Parker at the kitchen counter, hair mussed as though she'd slept on it, nibbling sugary cereal listlessly. 

Sophie sat across from her. “I missed you this morning.”

There was long silence. Parker fiddled with the end of her hair, running it over her thumb. “I went out last night,” she said at last. 

She went out a lot of nights, Sophie knew. “Yes?” she said carefully, trying to gauge Parker's mood. 

Parker folded her arms over her stomach. “Do you want to be romantic with me?” 

Sophie swallowed, observing Parker carefully. Her girl was hunched into herself, nervous. Sophie knew the answer immediately, viscerally: _no_. Some people were romantic with their littles, but others viewed littles platonically, as a family members. Sophie knew she was definitely in the second category. 

“Do you want that?” Sophie asked. 

Parker's scrunched up her face. “Tell me what you think.” A very long pause. “Please.” 

“No, Parker. I'm very happy with what we have together. But I don't want to be romantic with you.” 

“Oh.” Parker relaxed, and looked up at Sophie. “Oh, OK. Good.” 

She shoved a mouthful of honey-nut cheerios in her mouth. 

Sophie took a deep breath, giving herself a moment to process her morning so far. “What did you do last night?” 

“Went to a movie,” Parker said, through cereal. 

“A movie?” Sophie laughed. “I thought you were out climbing buildings every night.” 

“I do that too. Or go to the gym. And sometimes movies, or toy stores.” She sighed. “I've had to stop lifting stuff from stores though. Since we went straight.”

“You could buy yourself whatever you want,” Sophie suggested.

“I don't like giving people my money.” Parker frowned, as though someone was trying to steal it from her at this very moment. 

They were getting off topic. “And what happened at the movie?” 

“It was romantic.” Parker rolled her eyes. “There was a little, and he had a big family and ran a bakery but he was into this other lady. She was beautiful, like you.” 

Sophie smiled a little. “And they got together?” 

“Lots of kissing.” Parker bit her lip. “And there was a little and a care-giver in front of me. They were kissing too. I don't like… tongues in my mouth. People licking things. It's icky.” 

“No one's going to do that to you, sweetie.” Sophie paused. “Especially not me. All right?” 

Parker bit her lip. A long pause, while she kicked at the rungs of the chair. “But you'll still… you know, cuddle me, right?” 

Sophie came around to the other side of the table. She wrapped her arms around Parker, and Parker melted against her. “Always,” Sophie whispered by Parker's ear. “Always, unless you ask me to stop.” 

Parker locked her arms around Sophie's waist. “I won't.” 

9.

“I feel like I spend half my life looking for your pacifiers,” Sophie said. They were in the car together, Parker in the back, Hardison in front, next to Sophie. “Are you sure there isn't one in the diaper bag?” 

“Nuh-uh, I looked,” Parker said, and went back to nibbling her thumbnail. She was tired out, Sophie could tell, and she'd get grumpier and grumpier until she had a nap. A pacifier wouldn't solve the problem, but it'd help. 

“Check the glove compartment,” Sophie told Hardison. 

“Nope,” he said, pushing aside a spare pair of sunglasses and a corkscrew. “Parker, what did you do before you had us?” 

Parker paused, thinking. “I stole way more diamonds.” 

“Not what I meant,” Hardison said. He loosened the tie he'd been wearing for the grift. “What about your binkys?” 

Parker yawned. “I used to steal them too. They're so easy to steal. It must be a problem for the people who make them. They should get better security.” 

“Not a big market for hot pacifiers,” Hardison said. 

“Could cover them with diamonds and sell them to rich littles.” She giggled. “Stolen diamonds.” 

“You could just sell the diamonds,” Sophie said. 

“I bet there's an untapped market of dumb, rich littles though.” Parker rubbed her eyes, and took a silk scarf from Sophie's bag and ran it slowly over her nose and upper lip. Sophie fought the part of herself that worried Parker would get it sticky. She had to admit that Parker finding her clothes comforting was very sweet.

“We're ethical now, remember?” Hardison said. “We don't con littles.” 

“We could if they'd done something bad,” Parker said. “Like me.” Her eyes were heavy, and Sophie watched in horror as a corner of the scarf went into Parker's mouth. 

“That's Liberty Silk,” Sophie said under her breath. 

“Mostly littles are the ones who get conned.” Hardison rubbed his chin. 

“Yeah.” Parker crumpled the other end of the scarf in her hand. The knuckle of one finger went into her mouth, along with the edge of the scarf. “They're not smart like me...” 

Later, Sophie found the scarf wrapped around Parker's second-favourite bunny. She thought it would recover if washed very carefully, but in the end, she left it where it was. Not all scarves were destined for a glamorous life. 

The incident didn’t stick in her mind, until Hardison surprised them both a few days later. 

Parker came into their offices, wearing a work-appropriate skirt and blazer, and smelling strongly of perfume. She looked tired and rumpled, and Sophie could see from the way she walked that she was wet. She whisked Parker away upstairs before they began discussing the files she'd stolen. If they started talking about it, Parker would be too distracted to get cleaned up. 

Parker could change herself, of course, but she was apt to be distracted or leave it for too long, and Sophie worried about her rashes. She'd had a long discussion with a pharmacist about Parker's rashes and even glanced at an Internet forum or two. Worrying about diaper rash seemed to be hard-wired into every single caregiver. 

Sophie was still shocked that she'd unearthed that part of herself. She woke up sometimes, at night, and found she was listening, hard, and realised she was listening for the sounds of her little in distress. And then she rolled over and told herself again that this was not who she was. 

But the part of her that resisted was getting quieter and quieter. It was like that part of her had always been fighting a losing battle, and Sophie just hadn't known. She felt a rush of satisfaction whenever she saw that Parker's rash was getting better, and she just had to live with that being a part of who she was now. 

In the bedroom the team used as a place to change clothes (and diapers), Sophie reminded Parker to rub on plenty of the rash cream, and she helped Parker hold the diaper in place while Parker taped it on. Then Parker held out her arms towards Sophie, because recently they'd fallen into a pattern of cuddling for a few minutes after changes. Sophie really liked it – even a few seconds of Parker in her arms made her feel calmer, and content. 

“Little kitten,” Sophie murmured, stroking Parker's gangly leg as Parker lay her head on Sophie's shoulder. She could feel Parker groping at the diaper bag with her other hand, looking for a pacifier. 

A knock on the door startled Sophie, then annoyed her. She was sure it was Nate and she resented being denied a few quiet minutes with her little. She bit her lip, caught by the pronoun: _her_ little. Not _the_ little. Parker was _hers._

“It's Hardison.” 

“We're a little busy...” Sophie started to say, just as Parker called, “What is it?” 

Hardison opened the door, and then covered his eyes. 

“It's just a diaper,” Parker said, snort-laughing. “It's not a big deal.” 

“There are a lot of legs too,” Hardison said. He slowly withdrew his hand. “Are you taking a nap?” 

“I'm not sleepy.” Parker squirmed out of Sophie's arms, and sat back on the bed. 

Sophie sighed. “Then you need to put pants on, darling.” 

Parker shook her head, looking at Hardison intently. “What's in there? Do you have a present for me?” She was staring at a small parcel in his hand. 

“Damn, how could you tell? This could be a bomb. Or anything.” 

“You wouldn't hold a bomb like that,” Parker said. 

“It could be frog gummies.” 

“That would be great. Can I have one?”

Hardison had apparently adjusted to Parker in just her diaper and shirt. He stepped further into the room. “Woman, no. You know what you're like when you've had sugar. I was just thinking about how you always lose your pacifiers.” 

He handed her the package, which was a plain drug store bag. Parker ripped it open. Inside were two pacifiers, sized for littles, one plain green, and one black. The green one hung on a long black cord which could easily go over the head, and the black one was attached to a simple black plastic chain and clip. 

“It'll be easier to keep track of them,” Hardison said. He looked slightly embarrassed. “You can buy chains, but I made you one because I thought black would be better. It'll blend in.” 

Parker was grinning. She hung the cord around her neck, and clipped the chain to her shirt, laughing as the two pacifiers banged against each other. 

“I love them,” she said, popping the green one into her mouth. She stood up, and for the first time Sophie could remember, spontaneously hugged Hardison. As she pulled away, she said, “Could you make one that attached with a magnet?” 

10.

The sun was setting outside the airport, sky purple and red at the horizon. 

“What a day,” Sophie said. Her feet hurt, and she felt shaky now that the adrenaline had left her system. Tired and hollowed-out. “We should go to Paris, or Milan.” 

Nate took another sip of his drink. Hardison and Eliot were bickering; Parker looked up from the Nintendo DS she'd stolen from Hardison. “It's too easy to rob from the French national bank.” She yawned. “Milan. I've never tried Milan.” 

“Perhaps we should change our tickets.” The sky was rapidly darkening to navy blue, and Sophie felt the world calling to her. The smell of rain falling at dusk, the taste of Italian wine. She wanted to shop and look at paintings and not risk anyone's safety. 

“They're going to board us now,” Hardison said, checking his phone, and immediately the tinny announcement came over the speakers. 

“No Milan?” Parker said. She stretched, yawning. “How about Sydney?” 

Sophie chuckled. “You just want to steal another diamond.” 

“Or an opal.” Parker stretched, handing the DS back to Hardison. “That game is too easy.” 

“You ran through it too quickly. You should take your time. Appreciate the craftsmanship.” 

“Like you weren't hacking games when you were eleven.” Parker followed Sophie and Nate towards the gate. They all looked tired, Sophie realised. Even Eliot. They really did need a vacation, though she wasn't sure what Eliot's idea of a vacation would look like. 

Parker yawned as they stood in a line that was already long by the time they joined it. She and Hardison were needling each other, Parker poking him hard when she wanted to prove a point. As they waited, Sophie noticed her squirming in a very familiar way. A little wriggling, a shifting of her feet. Then Parker stopped talking, and looked downwards, her mouth slightly open. It wasn't very obvious: Sophie didn't think Hardison noticed. But she knew what was happening: Parker was wetting. 

Sophie sighed. She knew if Parker waited until after they'd boarded the plane and were allowed to use the aeroplane bathrooms, her skin would get irritated again. Parker's rashes were not just her own responsibility now: Sophie had to pay attention too.

She decided to take decisive action, grabbing Parker's hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Bathroom. Now.” 

Parker squirmed away. “Why? We're waiting to board.” 

“The line's moving,” Hardison said, looking ahead, and indeed people were beginning to shuffle forward. 

Sophie wasn't going to be distracted. “Don't wait for us. We'll catch up with you.” 

“I don't have to go,” Parker said, sighing, but when Sophie took her hand again, Parker let herself be tugged away. 

Sophie dropped her voice. “You're wet, aren't you?”

Parker paused, and shifted her weight slightly. “Oh. Yeah, I am. How did you know?” 

She sounded genuinely surprised, and it charmed Sophie. “Intuition. I guess I'm not the worst caregiver.” 

The bathroom was near their gate, but was crowded. Sophie hoped getting out of line had been the right decision. They waited outside one of the larger stalls, designed for littles. As soon as the occupant came out, Sophie drew Parker inside. Parker, shameless as usual, immediately tugged her pants down to her knees. Sophie opened Parker's carry-on bag for her, and leant back against the door to give Parker some space. 

But Parker grabbed Sophie's shirt. “You help?” she said, voice slipping into a slightly more childish diction. “It's just… We're in a hurry, aren't we?” 

“Come here, sweetheart.” Sophie helped Parker to wipe herself down, and then reminded her to put on rash cream. Parker hadn't bothered to pack any in her own bag, but Sophie had an extra tub stashed into her carry-on. It had begun to seem sensible to carry a couple of things for Parker, since the little had such trouble keeping track of everything. 

Parker was deft at taping on her own diapers, but Sophie wound up pulling her pants back up for her. As she did so, Parker leant into Sophie's warmth, head falling onto Sophie's shoulder. Sophie slipped her arms around her. “Been a long week, huh?” she said, referring to the hours of work on their job in Toronto. Parker had needed to grift, which always drained her. 

“Can I have a paci?” Parker asked in a small voice. 

Sophie kissed her forehead. “There's one in your bag, isn't there? Let me get it.” 

Parker opened her mouth slightly, expecting Sophie to pop it in for her. She was clingy as they washed their hands, wanting Sophie to help her. Sophie realised she'd pushed Parker deeper into her little side – the kid was tired anyway, and being bossed around by someone she trusted, and having her diaper changed, had made her slip down. 

It was daunting to realise that a little trusted her; that someone like Parker felt safe to let her guard down around her. It was a closeness Sophie had never expected to experience. 

She took Parker's hand, wanting to be worthy of her trust. 

There was no one left at their gate when they got to it, but the desk was still open. The steward took both their passports from Sophie, barely glancing at them. Parker twirled her hair sleepily around one finger. Sophie let go of Parker's hand so she could grab her carry-on as well as her own, before the little dropped it. 

The stewardess at the plane's entrance smiled broadly at them. “We're a little late,” Sophie said. She wished she could put her arm protectively around Parker's shoulders, but her hands were full. 

“Oh, sweetie,” the stewardess smiled at Parker, “Did you get lost?”

Parker shook her head. “Had to go to bathroom.” Her paci was still in her mouth, and her voice came out indistinct. 

“Well, it happens.” The stewardess took their tickets. “Hmm, you know, I think we have two empty seats in first class. How about that?” 

“That would be wonderful,” Sophie said. She'd often flirted her way into first class when she hadn't already booked it, but the stewardess wasn't looking at her at all. She only had eyes for Parker. 

“Do you like colouring?” she asked, as she ushered them towards two large seats. 

Parker shook her head, and carefully took out her paci. “Boring. I like video-games and puzzles.”

“My little likes puzzles too.” The stewardess nodded at Sophie. “I'll see if I can rustle something up, so you don't get antsy.” 

“We appreciate this,” Sophie said, stowing her bag under the seat. Parker sat down next to her, snuggling into her side. “Will you say thank you?” she asked Parker. 

Parker looked up at Sophie, confused. “Thank you, Sophie,” she said, paci going back into her mouth. 

The stewardess chuckled, winking at Sophie. “You know, I don't think she'll need many distractions. She's almost out.” 

“It's been a long day,” Sophie said. “She dropped so fast.” 

“I know how it is. My little can be the same way. Call me if you need anything, won't you?” 

Sophie thanked her again. Parker yawned, head settling on Sophie's chest. Sophie stroked her back, realising she'd have to let the boys know where she was. She wanted to gloat. 

She could smell Parker's hair: full of the faint, indescribable scent associated with littles. It helped her relax as she settled back into the chair. It was so different, being with a little. The stewardess had smiled at her, like they were in on a secret together. Like Parker was something to be cherished. 

Milan next, Sophie thought. Parker would have a whirl in Milan. 

11.

“You'll have a good evening with Hardison and Eliot, right?” Sophie blotted her lipstick. 

“I don't need a babysitter.” Parker twirled her bunny's ear around her finger. 

“I just thought you might get lonely.” 

“Sometimes I like to spend an evening organising my tools. Or looking at blueprints. Or climbing something.” 

Sophie sighed, carefully smoothed her eye-shadow. “Well, you don't have to spend an evening with the boys if you don't want to.” 

“Hardison already texted me. He's bringing the pizza, Eliot's bringing the beer. They'll be here in ten minutes.” Parker nibbled on the bunny's ear, and Sophie fought an urge to hand her a pacifier instead. Parker would be fine. Parker had been fine for twenty-four years without Sophie. Lately they'd fallen into a comfortable routine of spending their evenings together, but it was good to shake things up. 

Sophie took a deep breath. “It sounds like fun.” 

“You'll have more fun with Melvin Stafford Hobbes the third.” Parker flopped back onto the bed. “Hardison did a background check. He likes water-skiing.” 

“I didn't ask Hardison to do a background check.” 

“As if we were going to let you go on a date without a background check.” Parker rolled off the bed and onto the floor in one sudden movement. “Oh, Batty's under here. I wondered where he'd gone.” She was pulling out a small mechanical bat that she'd spent a couple of days trying to turn into an automatic lock-pick. 

Sophie held a pair of diamond earrings against her hair. No point in asking Parker if they suited her. Parker wouldn't have any idea. She thought about the evening ahead: wine, conversation that involved neither heists nor stuffed animals, a handsome man. It would be nice to have a boyfriend. He could take her to gallery openings and on weekends abroad. 

There was no reason to be anxious about Parker, but as she was leaving, she couldn't stop herself from gripping Eliot's wrist, “Call me if anything comes up,” she said. And added, “And don't let her drink too much.” 

Eliot nodded, but said, “You should worry about us. Four hours of Parker might be the end of me.” 

Her date preferred to be known as Mel, and really was very good looking – classic features and well-cut clothes that spoke of wealth and taste. He brought her to one of the most expensive restaurants in the city, decorated with contemporary paintings and dark leather. An atmosphere of intimacy was created by the dim lights and soft music. It was the kind of place where Sophie felt most at home. 

He joked and flattered her, in a way she hadn't experienced in too long. Her only dates lately had been for grifts. 

“I was actually born in Hong Kong,” Mel was saying. “But I went to school in Suffolk for ten years...” 

“Oh yes...” Sophie launched into an anecdote centring around school and Suffolk. Almost everyone else in the restaurant seemed to be on a date too: Sophie saw a sub slide of his chair and kneel at his date's feet, resting his head on her knee. Elsewhere, people were more subtle, leaning close across the table, or smiling over their wine. Sophie rested her eyes on Mel's. Her mind kept wandering – but why? Mel owned an early Gaugin drawing. He was charming. 

“You don't have children?” Mel asked, sipping his wine. “Mm, goes very well with the chicken livers. You should try some.” 

Sophie avoided the livers, and said she did not have children. Mel had two, from his first marriage. 

“They live in France, but I do see them regularly. I'm glad you don't have a little, either. It's nice to have some adult conversation. My brother is a little, and of course I've always supported rights for them, but I don't need all that in my life.” 

Sophie fell back on her usual answer. “It feels unnecessary, doesn't it?” 

“People talk about how they complete your life, but I've never seen it that way.” He chuckled. “I barely have it in me to give subs proper aftercare once we've had a roll around.” 

Sophie nibbled an asparagus stem. That was how she'd felt, too, wasn't it? She'd never have put it so bluntly, but for so long she had believed that littles were too much trouble. An unnecessary distraction from adult conversation. 

“The way I see it, littles are better off without people like us,” he said. “And there's no harm in enjoying long evenings with wine and no one demanding our affection.” 

Sophie smiled. She didn't want to tell him about Parker. She could never express the satisfaction she felt when Parker curled up against her in the evenings, fastening a hand in Sophie's shirt. When suddenly all the rest of the world faded away, and her little was there, soft-eyed and trusting. 

She was determined to enjoy the rest of the evening, but the fun was gone. She was good at making him smile, but she kept thinking about stealing his Gaugin. It was, she decided, wasted on him. 

12\. 

The fort was huge, covering all of Sophie's living room, and extending into the bedroom. It was entirely possible that its construction had included actual carpentry, because Hardison and Eliot had been at least peripherally involved. Parker had taken to sleeping at the highest point, like she was on an oddly shaped hammock. 

She reminded Sophie of a kitten when she settled in high places. Not just because she curled up small, but because, like a kitten, she seemed to be made of springs, able to jump anywhere. 

“How long has this been going on?” Nate asked. 

“Parker staying here?” Sophie said. Surely Nate knew by now that she and Parker shared an apartment, much of the time at least? He wasn't _that_ self-involved. 

“No, no, the fort.” 

“Oh, about a week and half.” Sophie edged around a corner so she could get to the kitchen. 

“It must be driving you crazy.” 

“Oh.” Sophie put the kettle down. “Well, a little.” 

Nate followed her around the edge of the sheet and leant against the counter next to her. “I never expected it would be like this.” 

“What do you mean?” Sophie got the tea-bags out. Nate would probably prefer coffee, but she decided he could live with tea. 

“When I decided to work with four criminals, I didn't think I'd be edging around their playhouses on my days off.” He paused. “I didn't think you'd settle down.” 

Sophie shrugged. “I don't think I've settled down. I'm living with a cat burglar. She startles me every day.” 

“Yes, but you've got sippy cups in your sink, and animal crackers on your counter, and you've let her destroy your apartment.” 

“I'm pretty sure it's still got resale value.” 

Nate shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do.” Sophie took out a tin of shortbread. “She didn't know how to look for affection, Nate. She didn't hug anyone. She used to be stiff when I held her. She had these rashes she didn't know how to fix. She slept three hours a night because she ate so much sugar she couldn't get herself to relax.” Sophie sighed. “I worry about her… She was alone for so long. Littles aren't supposed to be alone like that.” 

Nate looked at her: the kind of clear, piercing look that made her flustered. His lips moved, and then he turned his face away. “Are you really going make me drink tea? I'm exhausted. I should go home.” 

Parker's head came out of the centre of the fort, between two of Sophie's Egyptian cotton sheets. Her hair was rumpled, as though she'd been asleep, but it was entirely possible she'd muzzed it from climbing through a vent or leaping from a roof. Sophie thought back on what she'd said about her, wondering what Parker had heard. 

“Don't go home,” Parker said, looking at Nate. “You're lonely.” 

She vanished again, under the sheets, and then reappeared, climbing out at the breakfast bar. She reached for the animal crackers, and then said, “We could get rid of the fort. Some of the fort? If you're sick of it.” 

Sophie poured apple juice into a sippy for Parker. The little didn't need to drink from sippy-cups, but she found them comforting. “Maybe in a few days. I liked the picnic we had last night.” 

Nate accepted the tea grimly. He _was_ lonely, Sophie thought. Misery poured off him. 

“I never liked picnics, or forts.” He stirred the tea, sipped. “Maggie and Sam used to make them, but I never went inside.” 

“You can come inside this one,” Parker said. 

Sophie put her arm around Parker, but looked carefully at Nate. He wanted to tell her something, but he couldn't bring himself to face it. 

“Maybe if I'd...” He paused, swallowed. “Maggie is so competent. So smart. But she still … she still needed a better caregiver than I ever could be.” 

“She's _little_?” Sophie asked, the words bursting out in surprise.

Nate looked at the table. “I used to be a family man.” 

“Oh. That's why you don't like to be around me,” Parker said, without offence, but as though she was solving a puzzle. “That makes sense.” 

Sophie looked between them, feeling a raw affection for both of them. Both of these – _idiots._

“I'm working on it.” Nate's voice was level. “Sophie, can I have a real drink?” 

Sophie relented, got out whiskey. 

13.

The client had one of those double names – Sarah-Jane, Patty-Ann – Sophie couldn't keep it in her head. Nate, sitting next to her, smelt strongly of whiskey, and it was clouding her own thoughts. She tried to focus on the client's story and read between the lines. 

It was ridiculous, being this tired: she was up late because Parker and Hardison had convinced her to watch a movie with them, and they'd had ice-cream at midnight, and she'd had to talk Parker and Hardison out of prank-calling Eliot. They'd laughed a lot. 

But it wasn't exactly a sophisticated evening, and her head hurt. 

“And he mentioned a trust fund? Do you remember the surname?” Nate asked. Sophie sipped her coffee. 

A pair of long legs suddenly swung over the back of the booth, and then Parker was between them, pressing her weight into Sophie. She smelled of sleep, and littleness – warm and surprising, like being handed a cookie when you expected a shot of tequila. 

“Darling, what are you doing here?” Sophie asked, as Parker nuzzled into her neck. 

“You were gone when I woke up.” Parker rubbed her eyes. She was wearing her pyjama top under her sweater, and her hair wasn't brushed. Sophie's silk scarf, the one Parker had stolen months ago, was looped incongruously around her neck. 

“I had a meeting, remember?” Sophie said. 

Parker nibbled her thumb. “OK. Can I get a latte?” 

Nate coughed. “Forgive the, uh… Interruption. We can certainly get your finances restored, Mrs Czarny.” 

“Oh, I'm not interested in money...” 

“But money is the easiest thing to steal back,” Parker said. “And we can probably get you extra. Right?” She looked up at Sophie for confirmation. 

Sophie dug in her handbag and found a spare pacifier. She held it out to Parker hopefully. Parker took it, but didn't put it into her mouth. She was looking at the client. 

“Extra?” the woman shook her head. “I only want what I'm owed...” She paused, looking at Parker. “I'm sorry, but do you have a little mixed up in this? What you're doing must be dangerous work. I'm not sure it's ethical, really...” 

“Don't worry.” Parker snuggled closer to Sophie. “They're mixed up with _me,_ I'm not mixed up with _them_. We can get what you need. We're very good. What do you need?” 

Nate sighed, exasperated. He took another long swig of his whiskey-laced coffee. 

“You're very confident,” Mrs Czarny said. “You know, I used to work with a little who was like you. And she said a confident little was a happy one.” 

Parker shrugged. “I have everything I need.”

After the client left, Sophie took out paracetamol and rubbed her head. “Sugar,” Parker said, nodding sagely. She was still glued to Sophie's side, warm and soft. Sophie reached down to discreetly check her diaper as Parker tried to wriggle away. 

“Later,” Parker said. “Breakfast first.” 

“Very soon,” Sophie countered, swallowing two paracetamol and waving at the waitress. “But yes, we do need something to eat.” 

Nate coughed again. “You know, Parker, there's a reason we don't bring you to meet clients...” 

Parker nodded. “I give them the wrong idea.” 

“So you're not going to show up again, are you?” he prompted. 

Looking suddenly anxious, Parker squirmed, tilting towards Sophie. 

“It's my fault,” Sophie said, realising it was. She pictured Parker waking up in her single bed, and padding into Sophie's room, looking for her. Parker climbed in next to her every morning now, sleep-warm and tousled, and Sophie woke to her face pressed into her neck. Parker never said, couldn't say, that she depended on these routines, these moments of quiet affection, but Sophie knew that she did. They both did. 

Of course the first thing Parker had done that morning was to look for Sophie. But Sophie didn't know how to explain any of that to Nate. Instead, she said, “I think the client liked her.” 

“She liked littles, it's different,” Nate said, standing. “Are you coming to the briefing?” 

Parker was ordering pancakes, and Sophie shook her head. “It can wait twenty minutes.” 

14\. 

“Do you want to take Bunny with you?”

“In the _car_?” Parker sounded horrified. “What if we got in an accident and something happened to him?” 

Sophie raised her eyebrows. “What if something happened to us?” 

“We can look after ourselves,” Parker explained. “Bunny can't.” 

“You could take Green Bunny? Or the mouse?” Sophie suggested. “We're going to be away for at least three nights.” 

Parker gathered up her fluffy friends in her arms. She was always anxious about them – anxious about leaving them, anxious about taking them with her. Her relationship with them was intense, and not something Sophie fully understood, although she knew they were important. “Just need my pacis,” Parker said now. “These will go somewhere safe while we're away.” 

“Oh yes?” Sophie was aware that Parker often squirrelled her stuffed toys away, but she didn't know the details. 

“Secret.” Parker paused, nuzzling Bunny. “I trust you. But it's safer if less people know.” 

Sophie smiled, thinking a Bunny kidnapping was unlikely, though she knew it was a real fear for Parker. “OK. I've packed some extra pacis. Do you think we need anything else?” 

For this job, Parker needed to appear little, posing as a family with Sophie and Nate. With that in mind, she had dressed in clothes more obviously little-appropriate than she usually wore: black overalls with a purple t-shirt. Sophie put her hair in braids. 

She pulled Parker to her, and Parker ducked her head so Sophie could kiss her forehead. “You look adorable.” 

“Really?” Parker always looked startled when she was complimented, unless it was about stealing. 

“Yes. We have some time before Nate gets here. Let’s go to the park.” 

There was a large playground with sections for littles as well as children not far from Sophie’s apartment. They didn’t go there very often, but Parker always seemed to light up when they did. Now she bit her lip. “Not as fun as climbing a building.” 

“I know,” Sophie said. “But this way I can come with you.” She didn’t say she wanted Parker to burn off some energy before they were stuck in a car together, but that thought was very much in her mind. 

Parker nodded. She held Sophie’s hand as they left the building. It was funny, Sophie thought, how unromantic it felt. Parker’s hand was slightly sticky, and Sophie felt purely protective as she squeezed Parker’s fingers. Parker let go of her hand once they reached the park, running through the trees like a dog let off its lead. 

But she paused at the entrance to the playground, staring up at the huge rope climbing frame as though it intimidated her. 

“We’ve always come here at night before,” Parker said. That was true, Sophie reflected: they’d often sneaked in after hours, or in the late evening when only one or two people were here. Now five or six littles scrambled over the climbing frames. Some friends or caregivers clustered at one side. 

Parker shrank closer to Sophie. “I don’t know how to play with them.” 

Sophie touched her cheek. “Just go climb, sweetheart. Don’t worry about anyone else.” 

“Are you going to come?” 

Sophie shook her head, surprised. Parker had never asked her to accompany her before. “I’m wearing heels.” 

Parker rapidly scaled the climbing frame. It was a pyramid made of dense ropes: as tall as a two-storey building. Parker chose a section that was too difficult for most people to climb, and vanished upwards. It looked more like a work-out than play, but Sophie thought she could see Parker’s enjoyment as she leapt her own body-height from one rope to another, avoiding the handholds. 

“She’s very independent, isn’t she.” Another care-giver had come to stand next to Sophie. Dressed in a stylish olive-green coat, she was sipping a coffee. 

“She’s shy,” Sophie said, watching as Parker ducked away from another little who tried to speak to her. 

“She looks so confident,” the other woman said. “Phoebe, the girl in the pink coat over there, she always want me to help her.” 

Sophie shrugged. “She’s very agile,” she said, and realised she spoke with pride. “But people make her nervous.” 

Just then, Parker leapt from a rope, landing on her hands in the mulch. She balanced upside-down for what seemed like an impossibly long time, her braids swinging in her face. She righted herself apparently without effort, and sprang towards Sophie. 

Sophie wondered if this trip to the playground would go any way towards wearing her out before the car trip. At least it would put her in a good mood. 

A moment later, Sophie’s arms were full of Parker. Her little hid her face in Sophie’s neck. She smelt, to Sophie, of autumn – good, clean things, like leaves and apples and cookies. Sophie kissed her hair. 

She felt a depth of love, suddenly, a rush of affection that almost bowled her over. _I don’t know how to do this_ , she thought, feeling Parker’s trust in the way she let herself go limp in Sophie’s arms. _I don’t know how to be a caregiver_ – and suddenly she thought, with a burst of exhilaration, _but I’m learning._

 _We don’t know anything, either of us_. But they were here, Parker and Sophie, holding each other in the sunshine. And that was enough.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [5 Times Parker Said "I Love You" (And 1 Time Sophie Said It Back)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951348) by [I May Age Regress (shnuffeluv)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/I%20May%20Age%20Regress)




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